


text me maybe

by Areiton



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Developing Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Needs a Hug, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-03-13 09:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18938104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: He's drunk and there's a really hazy decade in the nineties that Rhodey looks pained when he even thinks about that says doing shit when he's drunk is a bad idea.There's also a new building on MIT campus and a yearly donation that supports that theory.But MIT and Rhodey are far away and that clunky black flip phone is not, and he snarls as he snatches it up and punches in the mess.It takes almost five minutes because the tech is obsolete and he is drunk but he does and he smiles at it, viciously pleased.





	1. Chapter 1

He's drunk and there's a really hazy decade in the nineties that Rhodey looks pained when he even  _ thinks  _ about that says doing shit when he's drunk is a bad idea. 

There's also a new building on MIT campus and a yearly donation that supports that theory. 

But MIT and Rhodey are far away and that clunky black flip phone is not, and he snarls as he snatches it up and punches in the message. 

It takes almost five minutes because the tech is  _ obsolete  _ and he is  _ drunk _ but he does and he smiles at it, viciously pleased. 

 

_ You're an asshole. Taking the kids cuz mommy and daddy couldn't hack it? Dick move. The whole world, Cap and you just--- you threw it all away for a zombie wearing a dead memory's face. I hope he's fucking worth it.  _

 

~*~ 

 

When he wakes up, his fingers are sticky with scotch and the phone is warm in his hand. He glares at it for a long moment, and then shoves it in the pillows of the couch and stumbles to the bathroom to shower. The kid will be by, later, and he doesn’t want to look like a complete wreck when he shows up. 

 

~*~ 

 

Tony is very good at compartmentalization and he manages to ignore his drunk texting until two days later. He’s finally let Peter out of the lab, and the kid is busily eating his way through the fridge and the truly frightening amount of greek takeout they ordered, when he startles and digs around in the cushions to produce the phone. 

“Uh,” he says, staring at it and Tony flushes. 

Which is ridiculous. The kid doesn’t even know what the hell the phone is for, much less who is on the other end. He has no reason to be  _ flushing _ , for god’s sake. 

“That’s some pretty outdated tech, Mr. Stark,” Peter grins and Tony scowls. 

“Give it here, brat,” he grumbles, and Peter happily hands it over. 

Habit has him flipping it over, but shock makes him still, staring at it. 

Steve texted back. 

  
  


~*~ 

 

He isn’t drunk when he reads it. 

He does wait until Peter is passed out in his room, and a drink is poured and untouched next to him. Then he sighs and opens it up because ignoring it won’t make the text vanish and it won’t satisfy his curiosity. 

He opens it and--

His heart stops. 

 

**_You’re right._ **

**_I’m sorry._ **

**_I’m so fucking sorry._ **

 

~*~ 

 

Steve Rogers doesn’t apologize. 

He doesn’t admit he’s wrong. 

He’s got that in common with Tony. 

But that--that right there is blinking at him in heavily pixalated black and grey, and it’s not going away just because years of experience says Rogers doesn’t apologize. 

He ignores it for most of the day, and then sighs. 

Fucking curiosity. 

 

_ What the hell does that even mean.  _

 

~*~ 

 

**_What happened in Siberia--it wasn’t your fault._ **

**_We were wrong._ **

**_We should never have been there and--you weren’t in the wrong._ **

**_I’m sorry._ **

 

~*~ 

 

He doesn’t answer. 

He doesn’t know  _ how  _ to answer. 

Of all the things he hoped for when he drunk texted Steve--this wasn’t it. This was the very last thing he expected. 

He ignores it because he doesn’t know what to  _ do _ with it, and he thinks, maybe, if he does respond--he’ll beg Steve to come home. 

 

~*~ 

 

He doesn’t miss  _ Steve.  _ Not really. He misses the team, the  _ family _ that they had built, has missed that since the Ultron debacle and the Avengers move away from the tower. 

He’s lonely. Especially now, with Potts gone and moving on with Norman fucking Osborn, of all people. He doesn’t begrudge her that any more than he wants Steve home. 

He’s lonely. 

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to this--to being alone, to being left behind, to being forgotten. 

 

~*~ 

 

_ If you know you were wrong--why are you still gone. Why not come back? Walk me through your logic.  _

 

He isn’t drunk, exactly. But he isn’t sober either and he thinks even as he hits send--it’s a stupid thing to ask. 

He hits send anyway. 

 

~*~ 

 

**_It got bigger than just me, somewhere along the road. I can’t control this, can’t control him. I wish--_ **

**_Going home isn’t an option. Hasn’t been for a long time, Stark._ **

 

~*~ 

 

He turns that over in his head for a few days. 

There’s a depth and awareness that he didn’t expect from Steve. Not that Rogers was dumb--he wasn’t, not even to Tony--but he wasn’t good at looking  _ deep _ , especially in himself. And this--it’s strange. It’s not what he expected, not from Steve and his abiding sense of righteousness, his  _ belief _ that he was right. 

Even in Siberia, when Barnes was shaking and guilt was wild in his eyes--that hadn’t wavered in Rogers. 

He doesn’t have any fucking idea what to do with it, if it is. He doesn’t know what to do with a Captain America that’s anything less than rock steady. 

 

~*~ 

 

_ Jarvis--not JARVIS, but my Jarvis--told me that home is always an option. That it’s what we make, not a place or a person. Home can change. Maybe you can’t go home--maybe that went out the window when you came out of the ice. But you can find a new home. I hope that we can all do that.  _

 

_ ~*~  _

 

They don’t text every day.

Most days, they don’t. He can go a week without hearing from Steve, go a week without reaching out to him. He’s got his hands full, trying to rework the Accords, trying to calm down the UN and WSC after the Rogues drop off the map.

Pepper comes back, but it’s not the same, it’s tense and wrong, like both of them are trying to force themselves back into a shape that just doesn’t fit.  For the first time, maybe ever, he understands Steve and the out of step disconnect the other man had always felt.

He feels that way now. The world is moving on, moving past the Avengers and he’s—not.

He’s stuck still, clinging to ghosts and memories and a girlfriend who doesn’t want him, and he doesn’t know how it happened or what it even means for the future.

So they don’t text every day. He’s busy. He throws himself into inventing, churns out two new apps for SI and a new tablet that makes Pepper so happy for a week, he almost thinks they can fix this broken thing between them. He build and rebuilds braces for Rhodey until the other man forbids him from touching his legs, and then sits through his PT like if he stares and hopes hard enough—he’ll be able to fix Rhodey.

And he starts working on a prosthetic arm.

He knows, even as he starts sketching the design, that what he’s doing is stupid and self-destructive—but he doesn’t let that stop him.

He tells himself it’s for SI—but it’s a lie and even he knows it.

He doesn’t text Steve about it.

 

~*~

 

Peter and Rhodey hate the Rogues. It’s something he  _ knew _ but it was very abstract, a kind of reassuring dislike that he was content to ignore. Now though--now he listens to them, listens to Peter bitch about Sam and Bucky and Wanda, listens to Rhodey’s grumbling about Steve and he feels almost  _ guilty _ for the phone, black and heavy and bricklike in his pocket. For the texts he sends and the fact that he  _ still _ hasn’t told them.  

He doesn’t really forgive Steve for what he did. But with every text, laced with guilt and apology and the hint of an explanation--he feels like he could. 

He could let it go, set it down,  _ have his family back.  _

“What about Kamala?” Rhodey says, frowning at his tablet. He’s busy rebuilding the Avengers, shaping the future of heroing into something good, something pure and reminiscent of Peter--and Tony swallows his guilt, because he’s still clinging to ghosts. 

 

_ Are we friends? _

 

~*~ 

 

**_I want us to be._ **

 

~*~

 

Tony doesn’t answer. 

He doesn’t want to say--me too. 

And he isn’t sure he can honestly say anything else. 

 

~*~ 

 

_ Did you pick this just to piss me off?  _

 

He's grumpy when he sends the message but not drunk.  Tony hasn't decided if that's an improvement or not. 

 

**_I don't think so?_ **

 

Tony snorts. Of course not. Steve just never  _ thinks  _ about things like tech and how Tony might react to it. Maybe because he spent so long in ice. The man still carried  _ paper _ to write his notes on. 

 

_ It's like you took the shittiest tech you could find in Sokovia and sent it my way to drive me insane.  _

 

**_Can't you integrate it with your AI, use your own tech to override it?_ **

 

That makes Tony pause. Because yes, of course he can. But Steve doesn't know or care about his tech, never has. He licks his lips and shakes the thought. That this is wrong--something about this. 

 

Instead he types. 

 

_ Well. If you don't mind, I'll go to work.   _

 

~*~ 

 

It gets easier to text after that, and there's something dangerous about it being  _ easy,  _ something that makes it more tempting. 

He doesn't need to text Steve. 

But sometimes, he wants to. 

Sometimes, he texts inane things, shit that doesn't seem to matter to the situation at all. 

 

_ I never had a friend like Bucky. Sometimes I thought I did.  _

 

_ Rhodey, he comes closest. But Rhodey wouldn't burn the world for me.  _

 

_ I want to understand but I don't. I don't think anyone can.  _

 

And sometimes--sometimes it's days between his texting and Steve responding. But he does. 

He always responds. 

 

**_I don’t think I had a friend like Bucky. I think--it’s complicated._ **

 

**_Rhodey loves you. He found you, in Afghanistan. He wouldn’t burn the world for you--but he’d search the wreckage and pull you out, and take you home._ **

**_I don’t understand. I wish I did._ **

 

Tony doesn’t know  _ why _ it helps, that uncertainty. He only knows that it does. 

 

~*~ 

 

The first time it happens, he’s in a board meeting. Pepper is sitting next to him and the CFO is droning on about stock prices, while her smile gets tighter and tighter and he really just wants to shuck off the damn suit, change into something he can get dirty, and tear into Peter’s Spider suit. There’s something wrong with the gliders and he wants to figure out  _ what _ before the kid splats on the pavement of Queens. 

His phone dings and he glances down. 

 

**_Went to a cathedral today--left the rest of the team behind, even though I know they’ll be pissed when I get back. I just needed a break from the bickering? And it was nice--being alone. I love them. All of them. But sometimes it’s nice to be alone._ **

 

Tony blinks at it. Because there’s nothing there to respond to. But there’s everything there to respond to. It’s an invitation, into his day, alone. 

 

_ Not alone if you’re texting me, are you.  _

 

The answer comes quick, quicker than he expects, and his heart-rate picks up, and a smile strings across his lips, small but fond. 

 

**_No, but maybe I want your company._ **

 

~*~ 

 

Things change after that. Not right away. But it’s...easier. 

Steve texts when he wanders the far-flung cities the Rogues are hiding in. Sometimes, he texts pictures, little snapshots of the sky or birds on the ground, food or a book open next to his coffee--he’s drinking it creamy and thin these days, something that startles Tony--and it’s nice. Soothing. 

A glimpse into a world Tony honestly thought he’d never be allowed inside again. 

The texts are lighter, teasing. Sometimes, Tony thinks Steve might even be flirting, when he sends pictures of empty benches and  _ wish you were here.  _

When he asks about Tony’s day, when he asks about SI and what Tony is building now--it feels like curiosity and not Steve pressing for information. 

 

~*~ 

 

_ I’m giving DUM-E to the college. For real this time.  _

 

**_You won’t. You love him._ **

 

_ Six hundred thousand in tech doused in fire repellant.  _

 

**_Kids are expensive._ **

 

Tony barks a laugh. 

 

_ You’d know--you took ‘em with you when you left.  _

 

There’s a long beat and Tony thinks he overstepped--that Steve will lash out. He’s never liked it much when Tony joked about something this serious. Always expected Tony to treat it with the same gravity he treated  _ everything.  _

Then. 

 

**_I’ll take the bots if you take the whiny bastards back._ **

 

Tony laughs outright at that.

 

_ No deal, sweetheart.  _

 

~*~ 

 

He doesn't talk about the Accords. He's absorbed in them, in reworking them so they aren't fucking over every superpowered person trying to make the world better--but they're what broke his family, what caused Steve to run.

So he doesn't talk about it. 

But Steve--Steve pushes. 

 

**_Why are you on the committee to amend the Accords?_ **

 

He stares at the message for a long time, not sure how to respond or if he  _ should  _ respond. It feels dangerous but he also thinks--it's genuine. That he  _ really _ wants to know.

 

_ Because I want to make them better. They were always a work in progress--they're a jumping off point. I want to make them better, for us and the world.  _

 

There's silence after that, long enough Tony wonders if he misstepped, if Steve is gonna run now. 

It takes another four hours and then, 

 

**_Can i read them?_ **

 

~*~ 

 

“You seem happier,” Peter says, one day. It’s in the middle of Tony talking about the upgrades he put into the suit, completely out of nowhere, and it draws him up short, makes him blink at the kid. 

“I didn’t realize I was  _ un _ happy,” he says slowly. It’s a lie, and the wrinkled nose Peter gives him let’s him know exactly what Peter thinks of his lie, but he doesn’t argue. Just shrugs and smiles. 

“You were,” he says, confidently. “I don’t blame you--not after Germany.” 

“Pete,” he says, and Peter sighs. 

“I don’t--I know you don’t want to talk about it. But you were sad, after Germany. And I get why--Rhodey and Ms. Potts, and everything--but you’re happier now. I don’t know why. But I’m glad.” 

Tony pauses, thinking about the texts that no one knows about, the endless conversation with Steve that doesn’t always make sense to him, but that never fails to make him smile. 

“What do you think of them--the Rogues?” Tony asks, and Peter looks at him. 

There’s something like anger in his eyes, but his smile is gentle and sincere when he says, “If you trust them--I trust you.” 

He wonders if it can be that simple. 

 

_ Pete says I’m happier.  _

 

He sends the message, not sure entirely why. It feels too honest, too exposed and vulnerable, but he’s curious what Steve will say. 

 

**_Who is pete?_ **

 

Tony curses. He forgets, that not everyone knows his fledgling protege. For a long moment, he’s not sure how to respond. There’s a part of him that wants to tell Steve. Wants to confide about this brilliant boy with his impossibly big heart, the one who is stupidly brave and desperate to  _ help _ , who makes Tony think he could be  _ better.  _

And there is--the need to protect him. Trusting Steve again is Tony’s choice. His mistake to make, if it turns out to be a mistake. 

But it’s not Peter’s choice. And Tony won’t make it for him. 

 

_ New guy at SI. You don’t know him.  _

 

There isn’t a response, long enough that Tony puts the phone aside and goes back to working on the suit with Peter, and it’s hours later he stops and looks at the message. 

 

**_I’m glad your happy, Tony._ **

  
  


**_~*~_ **

 

He likes texting when he can't sleep. He wonders sometimes, if the time zones keeps Steve present during those sleepless nights or id he too is plagued by nightmares that makes sleep so elusive.

Either way--when he texts late at night, there is always a response. 

It's easier, under the whisper thin cover of dark, to be honest. 

 

_ I miss you.  _

 

**_Why? I brought you nothin but headache and heartache._ **

 

_ There was good times. Wasn't there? _

 

**_Of course there were._ **

 

**_I wish--_ **

 

_ What _

 

**_Wish things were different. wish we weren’t on different sides._ **

 

His breath catches, his throat tight. 

 

_ if we were? what would you want?  _

 

There’s a part of him that feels ridiculous, like a high schooler with their first crush, waiting impatiently for an answer. When it does come through, it makes his breath catch in his throat. 

 

**_everything_ **


	2. Chapter 2

He panics. 

Because this--this was only ever supposed to be a drunk dial--Steve was never supposed to respond, he wasn't supposed to  _ fall _ for Steve. 

He's been down that road, right after New York, when the team scattered and it was just Tony and Steve in a big empty tower and the reasons they didn't get along, the reasons Tony resented him all felt very far away. 

And it never worked. Steve and Tony--it never worked. It cut at him, because there's a part of him, the young boy who idolized Captain America, who  _ wanted _ it to. 

He doesn't know what the hell this is.

He doesn't even know that he wants it. Steve--he knows Steve, knows his good and his bad and he knows they don't fit together. They work well as colleagues, and sometimes as friends, but they weren't the kind of people who could make their differences fit into a relationship. They were too similar. 

He ignores the phone and the steady stream of messages for three days, ignores the pounding in his heart every time his vision lights up with a new one, and the stupid treacherous voice in his head that says--this could be a  good thing. 

This could be the best thing. 

He thinks, if it were anyone but Steve. 

He ruthlessly silences the voice that says,  _ maybe _ . 

 

~*~

 

"Are you ok?" Peter asks, and Tony blinks at him. They're at one of the kid's favorite diners, and he's staring into nothing, half-listening to the boy ramble about a science project he and Ned are working on. 

Shit. 

He's doing that thing again, where he tunes the boy out. He swore he'd stop doing that, after the kid had a damn building dropped on him. He deserves better than that. 

"Sorry--sorry, I'm listening." 

Peter shifts, rubs his hands on his jeans and gives Tony a bright smile. "You know I can listen too." 

Tony pauses and stares at him, not sure what to do that. Except--it's not that surprising. It's such a Peter thing to say it almost  _ hurts _ . 

"My relationship problems aren't your problem, kid," he says gently and Peter gives him a bright smile. 

"You listened, when I was upset about everything with Liz, and that time with Harry. I can listen, sir." 

"Part of the gig--mentoring baby superheroes means listening to relationship woes." 

Peter frowns, probably because of the baby comment, but he just stares at Tony, his gaze sad and steady. "You don't always have to be the one listening. It's not just about what you can give other people, Mr. Stark." 

Tony stares for a long minute, and then--"You'll be mad." 

Peter doesn't say anything, just stares, patiently waiting and Tony sighs. "I think I want to date Steve." 

Peter's spit take is almost worth the hour of explanation that little declaration causes. 

Almost. 

 

~*~

 

He hesitates over the message. 

Not sure he should send it and not sure he shouldn’t. It says something, if Steve picks up the subtlety--which, Rhodey doesn’t think he will because as soon as he finished explaining to Pete what was going on, Peter called Rhodes and spilled it all. 

It wasn’t a fun night. 

Peter is still angry, though he says it’s not with Tony himself. 

 

_ I told Pete and Rhodey about us.  _

 

He exhales slow, fingers shaking just a little as he waits. 

He doesn’t know what Steve will say to that. In all the time they’ve been texting, they’ve never talked about telling people--or not. 

For all he knows, Steve lets Barnes read every one of these damn texts. 

The idea sits in his stomach, sour and terrifying. 

 

**_How’d they take it?_ **

 

No questions about his recent silence. Tony blows out a breath, relieved. 

 

_ Rhodey is annoyed but only because I’m being self-destructive. He’s used to it though. Pete--Pete is still pissed. He doesn’t trust you.  _

 

There’s a longer pause this time. 

 

**_Smart of him. I’m not exactly trustworthy. I know if you were mine, I wouldn’t trust another fella with you._ **

 

Tony gapes at that for a long moment, and then, before he can form a response. 

 

**_Gotta go. Gonna be radio silent for a few days. Should make Pete happy._ **

 

~*~

 

Steve is  _ jealous _ . 

It's so absurd that it takes two days and showing the damn messages to Rhodey before he actually wraps his head around it. 

"Guess you got your answer, Tones," Rhodey says, a wry smile on his lips. He blinks at his best friend, then the message, then his best friend again. 

"Steve is  _ jealous _ ," he says, stupidly. "Of  _ Pete _ ." 

"What exactly does Steve know about Peter?" Rhodey asks, "Because unless it's that he's a fifteen year old baby superhero, yeah--I can understand why Steve'd be jealous." 

Tony huffs a sigh. "Why does everyone always expect me to lead with that?" 

Rhodey snorts, and turns back to his documentary. "Because everything else is burying the lede," he says. "Go tell your boy that the kid is just that. How you manage to fuck up straight forward communication, Tones, I swear to god, you're a gift." 

Tony sticks his tongue out at Rhodey, and frowns at the phone. 

And then, smiles. 

 

~*~

 

He waits. Steve is radio silent anyway, so waiting is no real hardship. He shows up at Peter’s science fair, stands near the back, as unobtrusive as Tony Stark at a high school science fair  _ can _ be, and when it’s over and Peter bounds up to him with a big medal on a blue ribbon and a bigger smile, he drags the boy in, takes a picture that he immediately sets as his lockscreen before dragging Peter out for cheeseburgers and milkshakes. 

And later, much later, when Pete has been returned home, and Tony has slipped back into the Tower and showered and fucked around in the ‘shop for a few hours, the bots getting tune-ups that none of them need, DUM-E beeping and pinching at him grumpily--after he is laying in his bed and dawn has started to lighten the sky, he sends the text. 

The picture of him and Peter and that Midtown Science award, and Pete’s blinding pride. 

And four little words, that feels like a confession weighing this thing that has become a joke down. 

 

_ I’m proud of Peter.  _

 

~*~

 

**_That is Peter._ **

 

**_Tony, that's a child._ **

 

_ He's an intern. Brilliant--reminds me of myself at that age--well, the genius bit. Not the drug using slut part. Pete's too good for that.  _

 

**_He's a CHILD._ **

 

_ Did you think he wasn't? _

 

That's mean and he damn well knows it. But he's tired of them dancing around something this big. 

 

**_Well--yeah? Thought maybe he was someone you were datin._ **

 

Tony licks his lips. Rhodey's mocking, gentle smile is still in his mind, his disbelief that Tony could fuck up simple communication, and maybe--maybe if he and Steve had just fucking  _ talked _ , they never would have been in this position to begin with. 

 

_ I'm not dating. Not since Potts left me. There were a few one night stands but not--not for a while. _

 

There's a long pause, and his heart pounds, too hard for a man his age and with his heart condition--he feels stripped bare and there's a part of him that hates it. 

That wants to take it back and laugh it off. 

A bigger, lonelier part of him keeps his mouth shut and waits. 

 

**_How long?_ **

 

Bastard, Tony thinks, affectionately. Always pushing for more. 

But for all that it's a small demand--it comes across as more vulnerable than it does cocky. He still doesn't know how to handle vulnerable in Steve. 

 

_ Not since before we started talking.  _

 

There it is. In bright black and white, spelled out, his heart for anyone to see. 

 

He turns the phone off and runs shaking hands through his hair, because as desperate as he is to know what Steve would say to that--he isn't sure he's ready to know. 

 

~*~ 

 

When he turns the phone on, there are fourteen messages. 

Fourteen and his heart, a twitchy, unstable thing since he turned the damn thing off  _ finally _ settles. 

 

**_Is it selfish of me to say I'm glad?_ **

 

**_I want to keep you all to myself._ **

 

**_I know you have Pete, have Rhodes--but I hate them sometimes, for seeing you, for getting to see your smiles and hearing your laugh. Is that stupid?_ **

 

**_You asked what i'd want if I were there. i wish I could show you, baby. I wish I could touch you._ **

 

**_We're leaving here, soon. I don't know where we're going._ **

 

**_Tony, please talk to me. I know you're scared, sweetheart, but I promise I'd never hurt you._ **

 

**_You got no reason to trust me. I know that._ **

 

**_There's--we--_ **

 

**_PICTURE ATTACHED_ **

 

He stares at the picture for a long time. Barnes is in it, his hair loose and the glinting metal arm unmistakable. It makes his fingers tremble, and he squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out the soldier that Steve chose, blocking out the sunset that he wants to share. 

 

**_I want to go home. I'm so tired, Tony._ **

 

**_And scared. I wish--I wish things were different._ **

 

**_i need to talk to you and i'm so scared._ **

 

**_I know--we have to talk. Not like this. But soon. We have to talk._ **

 

**_We're going out on a mission. I'll text when we get home._ **

 

Tony stares at it, at the rambling confessions and the naked fear in his messages and that damn picture of Barnes and a sunset so beautiful it takes his breath away and he tries to make it all make sense. 

But Steve Rogers stopped making sense to him a long fucking time ago. 

 

~*~ 

 

The Accords are finalized on a day three weeks after Steve goes radio silent. 

It's anti-climatic. After months of negotiating, after sleepless nights and endless phone calls and meetings with his legal team, with other enhanced people, with senators and survivors and foreign diplomats--after everything--it's something he can sign without feeling like he's signing away a part of his soul. 

It's something he can sign and he thinks--it might even be something Steve would be willing to sign. 

The Rogues are granted immunity, a full pardon. Even Barnes, conditional on having his triggers removed and attending mandated therapy to work through almost a century of torture and abuse. 

It's better than Tony expected, if he's honest. 

He thinks--it might be better than they deserve. 

But Barnes is Steve's best friend, and as angry as he  _ was _ , he knows that the murder of his parents doesn't belong at the Soldier's feet. That was Hydra. He was just the murder weapon. 

He reaches for his phone, and send the first message since Steve vanished. 

 

_ I did it. The Accords--they're finalized. I protected as many as I could--the children and the innocent. The Rogues--you can all come home. _

 

He hesitates a moment and then sends a second message. 

 

_ I'm sorry it took so long. I miss you. Come home soon. _

 

Then he slips it in his pocket and fixes a smile on his face as he steps into a crowded press room to tell the world the news. 

 

~*~

 

He is disgustingly sober when he sends another text. 

 

_ You said once, you missed home. And I--maybe you don’t consider the Tower home. Not anymore. But it is. For you--it will always be a home for you.  _

 

~*~ 

 

He's sleeping when the phone rings. It's FRIDAY who wakes him, under strict orders that when Steve's number comes through, none of his privacy protocols applied. 

He fumbles for it, squinting at the too bright screen and it takes him entirely too long to realize--it's not a text message. 

The phone is  _ ringing _ . 

He almost drops the phone but he manages to answer it, and his voice is steady when he says, "Rogers?" 

There's a beat of silence, and then a broken sounding sob. Fear crackles down his spine, and he straightens up in bed, voice urgent, "Steve? Talk to me." 

"He's--" the voice is wrong, too deep, gritty gravel deep and it shivers in his belly. "It's Barnes. Steve--Stevie got hurt." 

There's a flash of fury, that Barnes is on the other end when all he wants is Steve. And a flare of worry, white hot and all consuming, and he can barely breathe through the gut punch of it. 

Barnes is still making that hurt sound, almost crying, and he closes his eyes. 

"What happened?" 

"Mission. We went on the mission, and he--it went wrong. We got captured." 

"How bad is it?" Tony asks, because James fucking Barnes is asking him for help. Steve might very well be dying. 

"Bad," he says, soft and scared. "I--Tony, I think he's dying." 

No. 

No. 

Not now. 

Not when they could finally fix everything. 

**_No_ ** . 

"Bring him here," Tony says. "You--all of you. Come home." 

"Tony," Barnes breathes, and he can hear the hesitance in his tone, and he doesn't have time for this, Steve doesn't have time for this. 

"Where are you?" he demands, and Bucky pauses for just a moment. 

Just long enough for fear to crystalize in his gut. 

And then, "Belfast. We're in Belfast." 

Relief makes him dizzy and he nods. "Quinnjet is on it's way. I'll have Cho here before you touch down. Keep him alive until you get here." 

Bucky hesitates, and then, "We need to talk." 

"Nothing to say," he says, and there's a long silence and he fills it. "I'll see you when you land." 

He tosses the phone down and goes to the bar and pours the first--only--drink he'll allow himself. 

His hand shakes so badly he almost drops it. 

When his hands are finally steady and the whiskey sits in melting ice on the kitchen table and the sun begins to peek through the skyline--he calls Rhodey. 

 

~*~ 

 

Rhodey is by his side when the quinnjet lands. 

He leans into Tony, a subtle reminder of his presence, when the ramp extends. Natasha and Clint come down first, and he twitches, staying in place only because they look like hell. Sam Wilson comes next, Steve carried in his arms, arms twisted around his neck. He’s breathing, but there’s blood covering both of them, and a limpness to Steve that worries Tony. 

The way that Sam’s head is dipped toward him, the way that Steve clings to the other man--that stabs like a knife in his gut, and he blinks against the pain of it. 

It doesn’t make sense, that kind of intimacy. 

Or maybe it does. 

Maybe the texts meant nothing. 

It wouldn’t be the first time Tony misgauged his worth to Steve. 

“Thanks,” Sam says, “For letting him--we appreciate it. You didn’t have to.” 

Steve peers at him through tired, bloodshot eyes. “You didn’t have to. I appreciate it.” 

“I told you--” 

“Tony,” a low voice says, and he registers, dimly, that Bucky has emerged from the quinnjet, that he’s staring with something desperate in his eyes. 

“The tower is your home. It always will be.” 

Steve frowns, confusion bright in his eyes, and says, dumbly, “What?” 

Tony’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears, and his fingertips tingle. Sam’s grip has tightened on Steve, holding him a little closer, his gaze on Tony cool and possessive. 

“In--the text? Did you not get it?” 

He sounds so small. So confused. He hates it. 

Steve coughs. “Tony, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

The world spins a little, and months,  _ months  _ of confessions and teasing and  _ healing _ shifts, adrift suddenly. 

He fumbles for his phone and a hand--metal, silver, warm, heavy--comes over his hand, stopping him. 

“He lost the phone,” Barnes says, and the pounding gets louder. There’s a small black phone in Bucky’s hand, ancient tech that makes Tony twitch, but it’s--

It’s. 

“No,” he says, flatly, and Rhodey shifts closer. “ _ No.”  _

Steve is saying something, and Barnes is standing too close, and he can’t fucking  _ breathe, _ and then--

Bucky reaches for him and Tony--

Tony punches him in the jaw. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY! It gets better, I promise!!!


	3. Chapter 3

The truth is--he doesn't do it on purpose.

He's sitting on the couch, in the middle of the morning, and something under his ass vibrates, and it--

It's a message.

Angry and _hurt_ , and he stares at it for a long time, before he ever decides to respond.

 

~*~

 

He knows better, is the thing. He knows the right choice is--give the damn thing to Stevie, walk away. Don't make an already broken team even more fractured. He's done enough damage.

But there is Wanda's fury, when Stark's name is mentioned, the way Steve's mouth goes tight and unhappy, the way he _looks_ at Bucky like he's reassuring himself that his best friend isn't dead.

He isn't. They're both fine, and even Sam and Wanda have been patched together. Natasha is quiet, especially now that Clint went back to his family and his farm, taking a voluntary house arrest to be with his family, and she doesn't get involved when Wanda starts spitting her fury at Stark.

They're all _fine_. They all walked away, even if it did take a prison break that stretched even his considerable skills.

Stark didn't.

Stark almost died in Siberia. He doesn't know if Stevie knows--but he kept an ear to the ground, hacked Tasha's computer to get the intel he wanted, and--he survived, but he was hospitalized for almost three weeks, and Rhodes was still recovering.

No one died--but Tony _almost_ did, and he is still reaching out, furious and hurting, and almost begging for an answer.

He pockets the phone, and when Stevie mentions misplacing it, a few days later, he doesn't say anything.

Because it's almost relief, in his tone, at having lost that lifeline to his one-time friend. Because there is still righteous fury in his eyes, when he looks at the empty sleeve where Bucky's arm _isn't_.

Because he smiles, just a little, when Wanda mutters dark insults at the breakfast table, watching an SI press conference.

Because Tony--Tony was hurt, was almost killed, and maybe all of them fucked up, in Siberia and in the days before that showdown--but he thinks maybe Tony is the one who deserves an apology.

 

~*~

 

**_You're right._ **

 

**_I'm sorry._ **

 

**_I'm so fucking sorry._ **

 

~*~

 

It occurs to him, about the sixth message from Tony, that he should probably explain who he is.

That Steve isn't on the other end of these messages.

But Tony is so guarded, so defensive.

And there's the ugly, selfish truth:

Bucky is lonely.

He is so goddamn lonely.

He's on a team, for the first time in seventy years, has his best friend back at his side, and people who would throw themselves--had thrown themselves--into the line of fire without hesitation, and he felt more alone than he had when he was HYDRA's pet.

Steve watched him, constantly, big blue eyes hopeful and sad. Tasha watched him with wary caution tinged with disappointment. Wanda he avoided completely--she was a good kid, he was sure, Stevie said so, but she was created by HYDRA and she terrified him.

Sam--Sam was the closest to normal, quick to tease and snark, push Bucky on his bullshit. But he was wrapped up in Steve, head over heels pinning, and Bucky was on the outside of that, alone.

He was so fucking lonely, and the phone buzzing quiet in his pocket--made him wonder if maybe Tony was lonely too.

 

~*~

 

He reads what he can about Stark. He's careful about it, but sometimes, when he hides behind his tablet, he can feel Tasha's gaze on him, and he looks up to see her watching, her green eyes narrow and far too knowing.

He ignores it. Ignores her, as much as he can, and reads.

Before the war, he wanted to see the future. Took Stevie and a couple dames to an expo, right before he shipped out, because it's the closest he was going to get. But what Howard Stark had displayed at that long ago expo--it's nothing compared to what his son does.

Tony is the future he's always wanted to see, and he gets to live in it, gets to listen to the man babble about his projects and chatter about his bots, and with every text--he doesn't know how to give this up.

He doesn't WANT to give this up.

 

~*~

 

He sends pictures.

It's dangerous. He knows it's dangerous. But he can read the loneliness in Tony.

_Honey bear went back to DC today. I know I can't keep him here--but the man broke his back, I thought I'd get him longer than this._

_Pepper is dating Norman fucking Osborne. Norman. I think that's a step below Hammer._

He's lonely, and he can see that same loneliness reflect back at him, and he does it impulsively, sitting in Paris because Natasha's safe houses are only ever in the middle of huge cities and in the middle of fucking nowhere.

He sends it, and Tony is teasing him, gentle and sweet, about being alone, and Bucky drinks his too-sweet coffee and savors the feeling like, maybe--maybe they aren't.

Maybe together, like this, neither of them are alone.

 

~*~

 

He doesn't understand the accords.

Or maybe it would be better to say--he doesn't understand Stevie's reaction to the Accords.

They're watching a tiny TV. Stark is at a narrow table by himself, sunglasses perched on his face, arguing with representatives from around the world.

He looks tired, Bucky thinks, and touches the phone in his pocket.

"He's an idiot," Steve says, softly. It's the first thing he's said since they turned the damn thing on.

"He's trying to improve them," Natasha says. She's not against the Accords, Bucky knows. Of all of the Rogues, she's most likely to sign them. "That right there, what he's doing--he's trying to find the middle ground so _we_ go home."

"No one asked him to do that," Steve says stubbornly.

"No one would," Tasha says, even and a little cold. "No one had to."

She leaves, and for a long time, no one says anything. Then, cautiously, Wilson says, "I could sign them. If he can get these concessions made--I could sign them."

"Sam," Steve says, and he sounds--shocked. Almost betrayed.

Sam flushes and looks away. "We didn't because as they were--they didn't work. But this puts the power in our hands, and yeah, we gotta answer to the committee--but Steve, we _should_ have to be accountable to someone other than ourselves."

Bucky is silent. He doesn't get to have an opinion about this--or maybe he does, but he knows Steve sure as hell doesn't want to hear it.

He rubs his finger over the phone and pulls up the current version of the Accords.

If he _is_ going to have an opinion--he sure as hell wants it to be an informed one.

 

~*~

 

Wanda treats Stark like a monster, her eyes narrow with barely contained hate when she talks about him. She treats him like something to be afraid of, something to protect yourself from at best and destroy at worse.

"Stark hurt her," Steve explains, and Bucky snorts.

Because he didn't. Something he created did.

But the image that Wanda presents doesn't match the one that he has, happy, goofy inventor who bitches about his bots.

 

_U put motor oil in my smoothie._

 

_They're trying to kill me. Skynet is finally happening._

 

Bucky smiles.

 

**_Maybe they're giving you oil because you give them oil._ **

 

**_You take good care of them, they're trying to do the same._ **

 

He gets a picture of DUM-E with a truly horrific looking smoothie.

 

_Nope. Gonna die. Remember me fondly._

 

_And watch Terminator. You and your frozen buddy would appreciate it, I think._

 

He pockets the phone after that, not wanting to deal with the inescapable fact that Tony still didn't know who he was actually talking to.

But he held that image in his mind, when Wanda ranted about how horrible he was, a put upon, fond smile and a bot nudging him with a black sludgy smoothie and laughter sparkling in dark brown eyes.

He thinks maybe--maybe his team never knew Stark. Not if they believe a man that gentle and patient with his children could ever be anything but kind.

 

~*~

 

Tony talks about Pepper and Rhodes and Happy all the time, the three satellites that orbit him like he's the sun. He knows who they are--one dark night, when the team was sleeping and Tony was quiet and he couldn't stop or distract himself, he looked them all up,  reading everything he could find about the pretty CEO of Stark Industries, the decorated Colonel, the man who seemed to be in love with Potts and devoted to Tony.

The next day, three files appeared on his tablet and Tasha smiled at him, sphinx-like and lovely.

He didn't thank her.

But he did read the files, devouring the information.

He _knows_ that Tony doesn't have many friends, many people he's close to--and he knows who those people are.

And then he gets the text.

 

_Pete says I’m happier._

 

And his whole world kinda screeches to a halt because there's someone else.

A man, who Tony cares about.

Cares about enough to actually mention, and that--he doesn't know what to say, and doesn't know _how_ to feel, so he shoves the phone away.

 

~*~

 

It takes three days for him to admit--he's jealous.

He's _jealous_.

And if he's jealous--he has no fucking _right_ to be jealous is the thing.

Tony is allowed to be happy, with whoever manages to make him that way. Bucky has no claim to that.

If this faceless Peter can make him happy--who the hell is Bucky to take that away.

 

_You ok? Been quiet._

 

**_I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind._ **

 

_Want to share with the class? I'm not always good at listening but I always try._

 

He pauses, considering.

He wants to say, I'm jealous. I don't want you seeing Peter.

He wants to say, I'm falling for you and it's the best thing to happen to me in seventy years.

He wants to say, I'm not Steve and I would never hurt you the way he did.

He doesn't.

He doesn't say anything, and eventually the phone goes quiet and still in his hand and he closes his eyes and breathes through the ache in his chest and tries not to hate a man he's never met for loving the man he wants.

 

~*~

 

"Do you know what you're doing, Yasha?" Tasha asks, one night. The phone is loose in his hand and a beer that will do nothing to get him drunk is dangling from his metal fingertips and he blinks at her, lazily. Her bright, avid gaze is trained on that damn phone, and he shrugs.

"Don't hurt him," she warns, and vanishes down the dark hallway, leaving him alone with his churning thoughts.

 

~*~

 

Peter is a child.

A teen with a big smile and adoring eyes and—if Tony is to believed and Bucky has made a habit of believing him at this point—a brilliant mind.

He’s a child, and Tony—

 

_I'm not dating. Not since Potts left me. There were a few one night stands but not--not for a while._

 

_Not since before we started talking._

There it is, spelled out in grainy pixelated green and black.

It shouldn’t give him as much hope as it does.

It shouldn’t fill him up with dread.

 

~*~

 

He curls in Tasha’s bed, his phone silent and still in his hand, and says, “I think I love him.”

She pets his hair, and he nestles into her lap. “What do I do?”

“Tell him the truth. He deserves that.”

“Will I lose him?” he asks, watching her, because she won’t lie. Not to him, not about this.

“You might. But if you don’t tell him—you’ll never really have him.”

 

~*~

 

**_Is it selfish of me to say I'm glad?_ **

 

**_I want to keep you all to myself._ **

 

**_I know you have Pete, have Rhodes--but I hate them sometimes, for seeing you, for getting to see your smiles and hearing your laugh. Is that stupid?_ **

 

**_You asked what i'd want if I were there. i wish I could show you, baby. I wish I could touch you._ **

 

**_We're leaving here, soon. I don't know where we're going._ **

 

**_Tony, please talk to me. I know you're scared, sweetheart, but I promise I'd never hurt you._ **

 

**_You got no reason to trust me. I know that._ **

 

**_There's--we--_ **

 

He hesitates over the picture. He’s never sent pictures of himself, or any of the team—to big of a security risk, too much of a chance Tony would put it together, that he _wasn’t_ talking to Steve.

But he wants to send this.

He pushes send before he can talk himself out of it.

 

 **PICTURE** **_ATTACHED_ **

 

**_I want to go home. I'm so tired, Tony._ **

 

**_And scared. I wish--I wish things were different._ **

 

**_i need to talk to you and i'm so scared._ **

 

**_I know--we have to talk. Not like this. But soon. We have to talk._ **

 

**_We're going out on a mission. I'll text when we get home._ **

 

~*~

The mission goes to hell, and he sees the messages—two—from Tony when he turns on his phone, but he can hear the gushing of Steve’s heart behind him, and terror is bright and coppery on his tongue, and he says, “Stevie got hurt.”

 

~*~

 

Tasha squeezes his hand, and steps away, steps down the ramp, and he swallows the fear in his throat as he follows the rest of the team.

Tony—Tony is standing there, near Rhodes, beautiful and fragile, his eyes big and bright and hurt as he watches Steve in Sam’s arms, and yeah.

Maybe he had a chance. Maybe those feelings weren’t one sided.

Too late, now, he thinks, and reaches out, phone in hand.

He sees the fury and hurt and grief in Tony’s eyes, a moment before they go blank, and a heartbeat before Tony punches him and he thinks, _this is exactly what I deserve._


	4. Chapter 4

"What the hell, Tony!" Steve shouts, and it settles in, deep, below the seething rage and _hurt_ , and Bucky's face, his closed eyes and bowed head. 

"Leave it," Bucky says, quietly, just enough steel in his voice that Steve goes quiet and there's a very distant part of Tony that wants to learn that trick, wants to shut Steve Rogers up that fucking fast, but it's being shouted down by the part of him that is demanding answers. 

"How long," he says, his breath ragged and he hates how raw his voice sounds the way it makes Rhodey shift next to him, anxious and protective. "How long were you lying to me?" 

Bucky flinches, and shakes his head, eyes pleading when they flick up to Tony for the barest heartbeat. 

" _How_ _long_?" 

"It was always me," he says. "From that first text. He lost it--the phone, it got misplaced and I found it and--"

"And you thought you'd _lie_ to me?" Tony spits. "Take my trust when you've taken so much else from me? Jesus, Barnes, do you want my fucking heart on a platter?" 

Bucky flinches and his eyes are big and pleading and _hurt--_

 

 **_I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry_ **. 

 

He shakes his head and falls back a step. Is reminded, suddenly, of the audience they have--Steve in Sam's arms both of them confused, Natasha and her resigned sympathy, Rhodey's trembling fury, and he shakes himself. Shakes off the emotions clogging in his throat. "Medical is waiting," he says, sharply, and Rhodey steps forward, takes over. 

He can feel Barnes watching him, until he steps off the landing pad and into the private quiet of his elevator. 

 

~*~ 

 

Bucky wants to follow him. 

He wants to chase Tony and explain, pour out the apology he had spent the entire last mission perfecting. 

Colonel James Rhodes is between him and the door, and even without his suit, the look in that man's eyes stops Bucky before he takes the first step. 

"Did you do it on purpose? Make him trust you so you could get back home? Because he was already killin' himself trying to fix the Accords and get your asses pardoned, this--" he gestures, "wasn't necessary." 

"It wasn't like that," Bucky says, softly and Rhodes scoffs, his expression something between disbelief and disgust. 

"You're welcome in the Tower--Tony made that decision. But you stay out of his lab, you stay the hell away from him--you see him coming, you walk away. If and when he wants to talk--he'll come to you." 

Bucky blinks at him. Behind them, he can hear the medical staff taking Steve from Sam, and he can feel the warmth of Tasha at his side, and he wants to argue--but he doesn't. He nods. 

Rhodes steps into his space, a head shorter, fifty pounds lighter, and bristling with fury that makes unease creep along Bucky's spine. "If you do anything else to hurt him, Barnes--I swear to god, I'll kill you." 

He doesn't wait for an answer that isn't coming--just turns and stalks after his best friend. 

Bucky slumps a little and Tasha hooks an arm through his. "That went even worse than I anticipated." 

 

~*~ 

 

He hides in his lab for three days before Rhodey and Peter override protocols and drag him to his bed. "They're not allowed up here, Mr. Stark," Peter promises in that endearingly earnest way of his. "You can sleep and no one will bother you." 

Rhodey shoos Pete out before he leaves, and he pauses, watching Tony for a long contemplative moment. "Did you ever think--" 

He makes a quiet, hurt sound, and Rhodey sighs. Comes back to sit on the bed next to him and Tony curls into his friend, his brother, head pillowed on his leg, and long familiar fingers combing through his hair. "I could kill him for you, Tones," he offers, lightly and Tony laughs, wet and hysterical and presses the tears neither of them are acknowledging into his leg. 

He thinks about it though--the half-formed question. Did he know? 

Not that it was Barnes--never that. But there were moments. Little slips and earnest apologies--moments he wondered if it _wasn't_ Steve. 

He reads the messages again, and his heart hurts. 

 

**_I wish--_ **

 

_What_

 

**_Wish things were different. wish we weren’t on different sides._ **

****

****

**_I know if you were mine, I wouldn’t trust another fella with you._ **

 

 

**_I want to keep you all to myself._ **

 

There is never a point, he realizes, when Bucky said he _was_ Steve. Never a moment when he answered to that name--usually if Tony directly addressed him or called him by nickname, Bucky would stop talking or change the subject. 

But he never said he _wasn't_ Steve, either--and that lie of omission stabs at him every time he takes a breath. 

 

~*~ 

 

The Rogues settle in like they'd never left--Steve is released from medical after three days, and a week later, they're still there. 

Bucky knows that Steve and Rhodes are talking, that the Accords are being discussed, and the pardons that Tony had worked out for the team. 

He aches, when he thinks about it, just like he does when he thinks about the fact that they are here--in his home, surrounded by his family, being provided for by his wealth. 

"It was smart," Wanda says, once, when she's realized Tony isn't waiting to swoop in and arrest them, or toss them out. There's something smug in the little witch that makes him itchy and angry, but he chokes that down and stares at her, questioning. "Getting him to trust you. To feel sorry--it was smart. It got us home." 

He stares at her for a long time, and then laughs. 

It's not a pleasant noise. "Tony was trying to get us home before I ever spoke to him. And it was _never_ with this intention. I wanted to fix something I broke. Everyone worried about me and Steve after Sibreria--but no one ever thought to worry about Tony." 

Her eyes are cool and amused, like Bucky doesn't understand what he's saying. Patiently, "He should never have been there. He deserved what happened." 

Bucky opens his mouth--and then stops. 

Because it doesn't matter. Wanda won't ever see Tony as more than the name that killed her parents and destroyed her world. Some people only look at the world through hate filled glasses. 

He shakes his head and stands. "No one deserved that," he says, and leaves her there. 

 

~*~ 

 

They've been in the Tower for a month, when he meets Peter. 

It's the middle of the night and he's stirring a pot of hot chocolate when he hears light feet and a familiar sound that jerks his head up--because it's been over a year since Berlin but he doesn't think he'll ever forget the sound that damn kid made when he shot him and Sam with that webbing. 

There's a boy landing lightly on the counter, in Hello Kitty pajama pants and a ratty Ironman t shirt and bare feet. 

He looks soft, sleepy, harmless. 

His eyes though--his eyes are cold and hard and trained on Bucky with a ruthless sort of intensity. He pauses, and pulls the pot from the heat carefully before saying, "You're Peter." 

The boy doesn't answer. He didn't really expect him to. "And Spider-man. Right?" 

He tips a look at the kid, at the tight set of his lips and the straight set of his shoulders and he sighs. Pours two cups of hot chocolate and adds a splash of Bailey's to one. He dumps a handful of marshmallows in both and then scoots them across the counter to Peter. 

That makes the kid pause, makes him stare down at the drinks in baffled surprise. Then his gaze flicks up, to Bucky. "You're the one leaving him food and coffee at night," Peter says. 

Bucky feels heat crawling in his cheeks but he doesn't deny it. Just nods and sips his own chocolate, cooling now. 

Peter stares at him for a moment, and then his shoulders slump and he reaches for the drinks. "Don't hurt him." 

"Do you think I would?" Bucky asks. 

Peter shakes his head. "Not intentionally. If I did, or Rhodey did--you wouldn't be here. None of you would." He starts to turn away, looks back. "But you _can_. You need to be aware--and be careful." 

He waits for Bucky's slow nod--and then he goes, with a tiny, reluctant smile, and Bucky's breath eases from him. 

It feels like the first breath he's taken in a month. 

 

~*~ 

 

Steve is in his workshop. It’s the first time in over a year that the man has been this close, and even knowing that what he’d been building wasn’t even _with_ Steve, there’s something about seeing him here, in his space, that sets Tony off kilter, his hands shaking just a little. He licks his lips and shoves into the big open space, “What can I do for you, Rogers? Is the thread count not to your liking?” 

Rogers doesn’t rise to the bait. He’s staring at Tony, his expression set and cold, and Tony smiles. “So it’s about Barnes.” 

“You punched him.” 

“Mmm, I did. After he lied to me for months. I feel like one probably cancels out the other and look, clean slate.” 

“I thought you’d--” 

“What? Get over it?” Tony asks, and his temper sparks, suddenly, flipping from anxious almost apologetic, to furious in the space of a heartbeat. “The bastard killed my _mother.”_

“You know it wasn’t him.” 

“His hands. His gun. I tore HYDRA apart with you--but he’s still here and I have to live with that.” 

“Yeah. Which mean you don’t _punch_ him every time you lose your damn temper.” 

Tony blinks at Rogers. Studies him, and sighs. “You don’t even know, do you?” 

“Know what?” Steve demands, belligerent. 

“Go talk to your bestie, Cap. Find out what the hell I’m pissed about from him. You sure as hell won’t believe me.” 

 

~*~ 

 

“I miss him,” Tony confesses and Rhodey looks at him. “I miss--I see things, or my phone will go off--and I think it’s him. And it isn’t. It never is. And I miss him.” 

“You’re allowed to miss him.” 

Tony snorts. Shakes his head. “It was all a lie.” 

Rhodey shakes his head. “It wasn’t. Some of it was--but what he said. What he meant to you. That wasn’t.” 

Tony is quiet and Rhodey reaches across the table to squeeze his wrist. “You’re allowed to miss him. And you’re allowed to forgive him--if that’s what you want.” 

“Is it?” Tony asks, his voice very small. 

Rhodey’s smile is sad, “I don’t know, Tony--only you can figure that out.” 

 

~*~ 

 

“What’s going on between you and Stark?” Steve asks, and Bucky pauses. Lowers the gun he’s been cleaning and leans back to stare at his best friend. 

The thing about friends like Steve Rogers is--you don’t always like them. They’re family, part of the fabric of who you are, dug so deep you can’t separate them out--but you don’t always _like_ them. 

“Nothin’. Why?” 

“Because the man punched you and can’t give me a good reason for it,” Steve snapped. 

“Told you to leave it alone,” Bucky grumbles, pick up the gun. 

“And not a damn thing else,” Steve fires back. 

“I talked to him,” he says, eyes trained on the gun. “Texted him. He trusted me, and I lied about somethin’.” 

The thing about Steve is--he’s _smart._  

“Buck, you didn’t.” 

His shoulders hunch. “I didn’t _mean_ to. I just--I didn’t know how to tell him.” 

Steve groans, scrubs a hand down his face. “You’re an idiot.” 

Bucky grunts. 

He sits down next to Bucky, a heavy hot weight on his right. “You deserved that punch, you know.” 

Bucky grunts. 

“You really care about him, don’t you.” 

Bucky’s fingers, quick and nimble on the gun, fumble, and Steve sighs. “Oh, Buck.” 

 

~*~ 

 

He's drunk and there's a really hazy decade in the nineties that Rhodey looks pained when he even _thinks_ about that says doing shit when he's drunk is a bad idea. 

But he’s not so drunk that his fingers are unsteady or slow, as he types. 

 

_I miss you. And i’m so angry at you I want to hit you._

_But I miss you. A lot._

 

_~*~_

 

Deep in the Tower, Bucky’s ancient little phone chimes. And he smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry!! There's gonna be one more chapter because these two were dragging their heels.


	5. Chapter 5

_ I hate you.  _

 

**_I know._ **

 

**~*~**

 

**_I miss you._ **

 

_ That isn’t fair.  _

 

**_I know. But it’s true._ **

 

**_~*~_ **

 

**_Steve is an asshole._ **

 

_ Trouble in paradise?  _

_ What is going on with him and Sam?  _

 

**_He thinks he knows what’s best for me--keeps tryin to protect me._ **

**_Doesn’t get I don’t need or want to be protected from you._ **

**_They’ve been fuckin since before SHIELD fell are you just now noticin?_ **

 

_ I have a company to run and a world to save, I don’t know who the geriatic captain is sleeping with.  _

_ I thought he was still hung up on peg.  _

 

**_He is. Sam puts up with a lot more shit than i would._ **

 

_ I dunno, you put up with me.  _

 

_ ~*~  _

 

**_How pissed would you be if I murdered someone in your Tower?_ **

 

_ It bothers me how much I don’t mind it when you talk about murder  _

_ Who pissed you off?  _

 

**_Wanda._ **

 

_ Won’t bother me at all. But don’t get caught.  _

 

**_Would that bother you?_ **

 

_ More than I like, yeah.  _

 

_ ~*~  _

 

_ Stop stealing Pete.  _

 

**_No._ **

**_But you can have Pepper--she scares me._ **

 

_ Coward.  _

 

_ ~*~  _

 

_ Why did you do it?  _

 

**_Because you fascinated me. And because I wanted to say I’m sorry. You--nothing that happened was your fault. You were tryign to protect the Avengers, and you had every right to be angry, when you found out what I did._ **

**_I knew you’d never listen to me. And i took the opportunity that I found to say what i needed, and I shouldn’t have._ **

**_I knew you’d be angry, and I did it anyway. I was wrong._ **

**_I’m so sorry, baby._ **

 

**_~*~_ **

 

**_Tony?_ **

 

**_~*~_ **

 

**_Peter said you left the Tower. Please--i didn’t mean to chase you away. Please come home._ **

 

**_~*~_ **

 

**_I’ll leave. I’ll take all of them with me, and leave you in peace. But please come back._ **

 

**_~*~_ **

 

**_I’m sorry._ **

 

**_~*~_ **

 

_ Don’t go.  _

 

~*~ 

 

He comes back. He thinks, for a brief moment, about slipping in while it’s dark, before he remembers this is his fucking Tower, and he isn’t sneaking in like a goddamn criminal. 

He comes back, an explosion of noise, flanked by Rhodey and Pepper as he strolls through the common area, and brings all the Rogues to a stop. 

Pepper ignores them completely, rattling on about SI and missed meetings, looming deadlines and a problem in R&D and he nods along, hiding his smile when Wanda shifts, angrily. “Send Pete down to R&D, get with Friday about the deadlines and meetings, and I’ll have everything on my desk signed and in your assistant’s hand by morning. Good?” 

She huffs, and he grins, drops a kiss on her cheek before she gives the Rogues an unimpressed glare and stalks away, already on her phone. 

Tony takes a moment to breath, and then shifts, turns his attention to the team staring at him with mixed expressions. Resignation and dislike and confusion and  _ hope.  _

“Rogers, we need to talk.” 

Wanda tenses, “You don’t really think--” 

“I  _ think _ ,” Tony says, sharply, “that this is my home,  _ my _ property, and if you are going to stay here, your  _ leader _ and I will be having a conversation. That isn’t asking for much, but if it is? No one is keeping you here.” 

Wanda’s eyes are wide and furious and there is a soft red glow to her fingers. 

“I will stay with you,” Vision says, abruptly appearing. He’s kept his distance from the Rogues since they returned, and the sight of him jerks Wanda to a hard stop. 

“Vis,” she whispers and Tony huffs. Turns his attention to Steve and arches an eyebrow. 

“Now?” Steve asks, startled and Tony smiles. 

“Now.” 

 

~*~ 

 

Steve doesn’t say, after, what he and Tony talked about. 

But they don’t leave, and Tony doesn’t leave and Bucky thinks--maybe that’s saying enough. 

 

~*~ 

 

**_I don’t trust wanda._ **

 

_ Wanda is Steve’s problem, Bucky babe. Not mine.  _

 

**_She’s dangerous._ **

 

_ Yep. But she’s also under his protection. So until that changes, my hands are kind of tied.  _

 

**_I won’t let her hurt you._ **

 

_ That’s a sweet sentiment--but it doesn’t change anything.  _

**_I think it does._ **

 

~*~ 

 

Steve Rogers in his workshop was becoming a familiar and disturbing occurrence. Tony huffs and says, “FRIDAY, we have a pest problem. Call the exterminators?” 

“Sure thing, Boss,” she answers chirpily, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“What can I do for you, Cap?” 

“I read them. The Accords. And the pardons you negotiated.” 

Tony freezes and Steve gives him a searching stare. “Why didn’t you tell me, you were trying to bring us home?” 

He doesn’t say,  _ I thought I did.  _

“Because it wasn’t done. Didn’t make a lot of sense to promise something I couldn’t deliver. And last time I brought you something and tried to explain it, we ended up destroying a German airport.” 

You almost killed me. Rhodey was paralyzed. 

He bites back the words. The accusations. There’s no room for them, not if they’re going to  _ fix _ things, and he’s tired enough to admit, to himself, that he wants to. 

He’s scared enough, of the threats beyond their tiny blue planet, to admit that they  _ have  _ to. 

“I was never going to give the Avengers to a bunch of politicians, Rogers,” he says, tired. Quiet. Not looking for a fight, just trying to explain and hoping that maybe this time, Steve would listen. “I was always going to rework the Accords, make them something we could live within, work within--and maybe, maybe when we fight whatever alien army that lands on our doorstep next time, we’ll have more than the six of us and a ill-timed nuke. Maybe the rest of the world can pull its weight.” 

Steve stares at him. “We’re supposed to protect them.” 

“We can’t,” Tony answers, simply. “Not without their help. We can’t save people who don’t want to be saved, Steve.” 

Steve is quiet, for a long time, and then. “Wanda is going to stay with Barton, for a while. Strange has agreed to work with her, try to train her. But the distance--the quiet--it’ll help.” 

Tony blinks at him, and Steve flashes him a smirk, something that’s almost what they were, once upon a time, before Ultron and Triskelion and  _ Bucky. “ _ Figure out what you’re doing with my best friend, man. The pining is getting unbearable.” 

 

~*~ 

 

“Do you like having them back?” 

Tony glances at Peter. The kid is frowning at the suit, gaze intent as he plays with the wiring--but he know this kid, know him better than he probably should at this point, and it’s not hard to see the way Peter flicks a look at him, curious and weighted. The way the question is deliberately casual, like it doesn’t mean anything when they both know it means so much. 

“I haven’t decided,” Tony says, honestly. “It’s a lot.” 

Peter nods, and there’s something very tired in his gaze, something that makes Tony  _ ache _ . “Is it--I’m still angry.” 

“Because of Siberia?” Tony asks, gently, and Peter’s gaze flicks to him. 

“Because of Siberia. And because they came back, but only Mr. Bucky ever apologized. That isn’t right, Mr. Stark.” 

He pauses, and puts his tools down, gives Peter his focus. “I know it isn’t, kid. I--there’s a lot going on. A lot you don’t know--” 

“What, you mean about Maximoff’s parents? About Cap lying to you?” There’s a bite to Peter’s voice that pauses Tony in his tracks. “I know more than you give me credit for, sir.” 

“So what do you think,” he says, throwing the ball back at Peter. If he knows the kid as well as he thinks he doesn't, he knows he thinks  _ something.  _

“I don’t trust Wanda. And I don’t  _ like _ Cap. Wilson--he follows orders. They’re stupid orders and I think that’s the problem with him--but I can’t fault him for being loyal.” 

Tony’s lips twitch a little at that, and he pokes the bear. “And Bucky?” 

Peter smiles, a teasing, happy thing that makes his heart ache to see. “Mr. Bucky is the only one I do trust.” 

 

~*~ 

 

_ My kid likes you.  _

 

**_I like him too._ **

 

_ My kid shouldn’t like you, Barnes.  _

 

**_All your kids like me, Tony. Even the bots do._ **

 

_ You make that sound like an achievement.  _

_ They like everyone.  _

 

**_Is that why DUM-E gave Wanda a motor oil smoothie? And used the fire extinguisher on Sam’s wings?_ **

 

_ Shut up.  _

 

_ ~*~  _

 

_ They’re smart, you know.  _

_ The kids.  _

_ For liking you. For trusting you.  _

 

**_Baby_ **

 

_ ~*~  _

 

_ I miss you.  _

 

**_I’m right here, baby. Until you send me away, I’ll be waiting, right here._ **

 

**_~*~_ **

 

 

_ Can you come to the workshop?  _

 

_ ~*~  _

 

Bucky steps out of the elevator anxiously, and freezes there. 

He's heard about the workshop, of course. He was head over heels for Tony and even if he could manage to forget that, there was Peter and Rhodey and the casual way they peppered talk of the technological wonderland into every conversation. 

So he's heard of it, but it's different, stepping into it. There are projects scattered around like half-wrought miracles, holo screens glowing in the air, a  line of shiny cars and one that's rusty and in pieces. The bots are chirping and whistling as they chase each other around the room, and Tony shouts at them. 

Because in the middle of it all, is Tony. In ratty jeans and bare feet and a black tank top that leaves Bucky's mouth dry. His hair is messy and his arms are sweat slick and smudged with grease, and he looks beautiful. 

Utterly breathtaking. 

He makes a noise, small and hurt and Tony and the bots pause, twisting to him. 

DUM-E whistles, shrill and pleased, and drops the screwdriver he's taunting U with to race toward him, arm waving maniacally. 

The bots cluster around him, plucking at his sleeve and his shirt, tugging him deeper into the workshop, toward Tony and he looks up, smiles helplessly. 

"Sorry," he says, and Tony shakes his head, waves him off. 

"I should apologize," he starts and Bucky snorts. Laughs. 

"You don't ever have to apologize because the kids like me, Tony." 

It makes Tony pause, makes him study Bucky a little harder, and Bucky is quiet, let's him look his fill, content to take the ball Butterfingers presses into his gut and roll it gently across the floor and grin as the bots all shriek and race after it, fighting and bumping into each other. He grins, and looks back at Tony. 

He jerks, almost as if slapped. "Right. I--I have something for you." 

Bucky straightens up and follows Tony. "You don't--I won't be upset if you don't want it. I just--I--" 

"Just show me, darlin'," Bucky murmurs and Tony flicks a look at him, and then nods, short and choppy and throws a schematic from his tablet to glow in the air before them. 

It's gorgeous. Sleek and metallic, but a deep matte black, with hints of gold, a bare shoulder. "Tony," Bucky breathes, and Tony fidgets. 

"I kept the plating--it gives you more motion and the fingers. I might have hacked the Princess' server to find out about the neural interface, so it should be compatible with the hardwiring you have left behind--but there's upgrades. Better sense receptors and reaction time." 

"Tony," Bucky says again, helpless. 

"You don't--I was working on Rhodey's legs and it got in my head. I'm not going to be upset if you don't want it. I just--it's here. And it's yours. If you want it." 

"Why?" Bucky asks, his voice hoarse. "Why would you do this for me?" 

Tony flushes. Bites his lip and Bucky twists, drags his gaze away from the beautiful arm that Tony *made for him, to the man himself, beautiful and so close Bucky can feel the warmth of him, against the skin of his right arm. "You  _ hated _ me. You didn't  _ know _ ." 

"I didn't," Tony says. 

"You hated me," Bucky says, brokenly. 

Tony softens, his gaze gentle and his fingers in Bucky's shirt twisting and soft. "I never hated you. I was--I was so angry. But I never hated *you. I never could." 

Bucky makes a noise then and he presses close, almost--almost--kissing Tony. He stops, just barely, hovering, breath brushing hot against Tony's lips.

"Tony," he whispers, pleading. 

"You  _ dumbass _ ," Tony breathes, and yanks him forward. 

It's hard, messy,  _ desperate _ . Bucky's hand is hot and heavy on Tony's hip, and that touch, that grip on the man grounds him. It's sloppy and not very good, and then Tony's fingers slide into his hair, grips and *tugs, just enough to change the angle, just enough to drag a hungry groan from Bucky, just enough to turn the kiss filthy wet perfect. 

"Bed," Tony manages to press into the kiss, drags over his lower lip with his teeth, and Bucky makes a noise he'd be ashamed of it, it didn't makes Tony shiver against him. 

He's herded back, back, until they leave the workshop for a small room set to the side. Bucky sees a small fridge, a battered couch, and then he's being pushed down onto a bed, and Tony is crawling up him, chasing his lips, and rocking down against his hardon. Bucky's hand on his hip grips, convulsive, and it makes Tony breath a laugh against his lips, giddy with triumph. 

His laughter is the sweetest damn thing Bucky's ever tasted, and he wants it, wants it forever. 

He's so damn gone on this beautiful brilliant bastard. 

"Tony," he whispers, helpless and entranced and it settles some of the frenetic energy rolling off the genius, who stretches himself out, rubbing slow and soft against Bucky as he kisses him, soft and deliberate and thorough.  

"Gonna let me see you, darlin?" Bucky asks into the sticky slow kisses.

"Yeah," Tony breathes, and he pulls away to wiggle out of his jeans, shoving them down and off without hesitation and or shame, tugging off the tank top with the same impatience that leaves Bucky's fingers shaking and his mouth dry. 

He reaches for Tony, without really thinking, just desperate to get his hand back on that sleek beautiful body, desperate to drag that warm skin and strength back against him. "Lemme blow you," he murmurs against the warm, sweaty skin of Tony's throat, and feels the man shudder against him. He smiles, and presses Tony to the mattress and slides down his body. 

Later, he'll take his time, tease and taunt, play with him until Tony is begging. 

Later, he'll give Tony his mouth, work him open with lips and tongue and finger until Tony is shaking and sobbing and coming against the sheets. 

Later, he'll grip Tony's hip and fuck up into him as Tony rides him, slow and syrup sweet and soul shattering. 

Later, he'll do all of that. Later. 

Because for the first time, he thinks--they have a later. 

They have a future. 

For the first time, he isn't afraid of the silent dark phone forgotten in his pant's pocket. 

He shoves his jeans off and let's Tony help him from his shirt and they've barely collapsed back on the bed before Bucky has his cock in his mouth, and Tony's fingers in his hair, and the deep groans and bitten off curses fill the air, and it's not everything he wants, not yet, not yet--but it's damn close. 

He closes his eyes and gives himself up to this beautiful man and thinks, I love you, I love you, I love you. 

 

~*~ 

 

Tony wakes up alone,  sore and sticky, aching in that way he does when he's had very good sex. 

Tony wakes up alone, to the familiar sound of his bots beyond the door, and Bucky's voice low as he teases them and plays with them sounds so right it feels familiar. 

The phone buzzes next to his head, again, and he picks it up and smiles at the text that’s waiting for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me! I know most of you are here for Bucky/Tony and I PROMISE next chapter will give you answers.


End file.
